A Very Merry Christmas
by Hetalia Bunny
Summary: Merry Christmas! Party at Elizaveta's House!


Roderich blew on his mittened hands, even though he knew it wouldn't help. It was more out of habit. He looked ahead at the cozy, warm house a few paces away. Well, at least he imagined it would be cozy and warm, warmer than it was outside. The snowflakes fell gently onto the ground, creating a thin layer of white.

Roderich strolled onwards, glad he had finally found Elizaveta's house. No doubt he was at least an hour late. He sighed. Someday, he would complain to Ludwig to create a simpler GPS device. There were simply too many meaningless lines.

As he pressed the doorbell, Roderich could hear the chaotic shouts from inside. He braced himself for an unpleasant surprise - perhaps something hurled at his face or maybe a prank of some sort. Instead, Elizaveta appeared at the door, smiling sweetly and flushed at the cheeks. She also had bits of chips stuck in her hair.

"Roddy~! You missed World Food War III!" She cried, brushing snow off his hair with quick sweeping motions.

"Roderich," he corrected automatically, secretly glad he was late. "And good evening. I hope you are having an enjoyable Christmas."

Elizaveta simply nodded and dragged him inside, taking off his scarf and coat without asking. From inside, the raucous laughter and brash shouts revealed that the party was well under way.

Roderich was led downstairs to the basement into a room full of festive red, green, and white. Food had been laid in a corner of the room, and empty beer bottles had already begun to litter the floor.

"Look who's finally here!" Elizaveta joked, pushing Roderich in front. If there was one thing Roderich disliked, it was being the center of attention.

"Took you long enough! Two hours... that's almost a record!"

Roderich's mouth twitched at the sound of the voice. It belonged to no other than the arrogant, impossible, annoying, idiotic albino named Gilbert Beilschmidt.

Before Roderich could come back with a witty retort, however, he was overwhelmed by a torrent of people who actually were glad to see him (Not to say Gilbert wasn't a little glad to see the main object of his teasing arrive).

"Did the GPS not work?"

"It is nice to find another gentleman to share company with."

"DUDE! WHERE WERE YOU?"

"Merry Christmas, Aru!"

"Ve~! Roderich! Ciao~!"

And so on...

By the time the greetings had ended, Roderich found a bottle of beer put in his hands, a plate of food in front of him, and a form to recognize all micronations as countries stuffed hastily into his other hand.

After a few minutes, the constant conversation had shifted from Roderich's arrival to other topics. Roderich didn't mind. He just wished they could have chosen a better topic to talk about. Alfred was currently in a heated debate against Arthur about how the Zombie Apocalypse related to December 21, 2012.

"Dude, I swear it's gonna happen anytime now! The Zombies were just a little late!"

"What kind of rubbish is this 'Zombie Apocalypse'? What kind of proof do you have? I find your worries childish."

"I just know, Arthur, I just know. I have magical powers! Real ones, not those crappy hallucinations you get when you're high."

"What the bloody...?! They're NOT hallucinations! You haven't experienced the true power of the British Empire!"

"Ah, I could destroy you with a couple nukes. Dude, you couldn't win against me ever!"

Honda Kiku was silent, not sure if he should not care or be indignant about the comment on nukes. He decided to just shrug off the comment. No one noticed.

The conversation kept on going in this manner of trivial topics, and Roderich was content to just eating and listening, except for when Gilbert gave an opinion in which Roderich _had_ to oppose.

After dinner dragged to an end, Elizaveta brought the group to the dance floor. Everything had already been prepared, and Gilbert had already taken his post as the DJ. As with all dances with Gilbert as the DJ, it was loud, crazy, and way too much for someone with delicate ears as Roderich's.

After a few minutes in which Gilbert began playing with the volume controls (much to everyone's annoyance), Roderich decided to go upstairs for a break. He was not alone.

A group of the quieter nations had already gathered in the dining room when Roderich emerged.

"Ah, I was wondering when you would come out of that mess downstairs," Arthur smirked, with a friendly tone. A quick glance revealed Emil, Ludwig, Lukas, Ivan, Eduard, Raivis, and Arthur already into a card game around the kitchen table.

Natalia's evil aura leaked out from behind Ivan's chair, adding her to the list of people tired of Gilbert. Or maybe she was just stalking Ivan. The latter reason seemed more likely.

Roderich prefered this company much more to the rowdy group downstairs (with perhaps a few omissions). He pulled up a chair and joined into the game of cards.

They made small talk and laughed occasionally, but the atmosphere was calmer by far (although the tall russian was sending rather ominous auras out).

Roderich heard footsteps coming up the stairs, and he turned to see Feliciano dragging Francis up the stairs, followed closely by Elizaveta.

"Roderich! Ve~! Make food for us! We're having a dessert competition between Francis, you, and me... and maybe some other people!"

Other nations had slowly trickled up to the kitchen, following the hostess. The no longer playing music downstairs evidently signaled the end of the dance.

"Alright, then." Roderich readily agreed. This was a Christmas tradition between the nations and took place annually.

Arthur immediately stood up.

"Excellent! Let us begin, chaps. I am sure my cake will have no competition this year!"

There was a rare moment of complete silence. Finally, Feliciano started crying.

"No~! Arthur's food is horrible! It's worse than dog food!"

This was met by general laughter, and Ludwig had to assure Feliciano that he didn't have to eat the food, and that the world won't end if Arthur cooked (although Ludwig was not very sure about this). Arthur had retreated to an emo corner, trying to tell himself that his cooking couldn't be _that_ bad. Unfortunately, it was.

Thus, the cooking competition began. The kitchen was just large enough to accommodate so many cooking nations (Elizaveta had a large kitchen). Wonderful aromas floated throughout the air (except for that area around Arthur), and Ludwig went around cleaning, scrubbing, and trying to satisfy his OCD. Gilbert also tried to help, but when he discovered Elizaveta's cabinet full of frying pans, he decided to stay far away from the kitchen.

In the end, the dining table was set with bouche de noelle, apfelstrudel, panettone, sticky rice cakes, stollen, sponge cakes, cheesecakes, butter cakes, luminescent cakes (Alfred's), burnt black objects that might have once been cake (Arthur's), and so on.

There was a wonderful display of culture and creativity, and the pastries were pleasing to the eye (mostly). The countries did not wait to begin the eating and judging.

As the Christmas Dessert Competition came to a close, everyone had full stomachs, and all that was left were crumbs, although Arthur's black objects were left mostly untouched. The results went like this: Best Tasting- Francis, Best Looking- Roderich, Most Exotic- Yao, Most Traditional- Feliciano, Hardest Effort- Arthur.

In the end, Arthur was right. His cakes did not have any competition._  
_

Honda Kiku had argued that Alfred's cake _had_ to be the most exotic, but the results stood as they were. The countries were lead into the living room, where more relaxed conversation continued.

Christmas movies were watched (and ignored), and Estonia put together a rather interesting, Christmas-y slideshow that featured several embarrassing photos of the nations. Many photos were taken from Honda's and Elizaveta's albums.

The party dragged late into the night. Several notable memories were made.

Peter Kirkland organized a "Micronations are Nations" parade with his small club of micronations and interrupted the older nations' gathering for a few brief moments. Arthur ended up lecturing Peter and sending him to bed, along with several of the other young micronations. This was only an annoyance to the other countries, but to the micronations, this was a huge step.

World Food War IV happened inside the living room, using wine and beer as the main weapons. Everyone was thoroughly drenched afterwards, and Elizaveta could hardly contain herself when she gave Roderich a dress to change into. (He was half drunk, so you can't blame him for putting the dress on).

Outside, the snow quietly continued covering the world in its white blanket. The lights and joyfulness inside Elizaveta's house were not affected by the dark, peaceful night outside.

Nearly all the nations slept over, and even as the lights were turned off (very, very late the next morning), most nations did not sleep. Unfortunately, Roderich _did_ sleep.

What resulted was what usually happens when a bunch of bored, drunk nations see another sleeping nation. Well, at least it was going to result until the albino and the blonde pervert who had decided to draw on Roderich's face got frying pans to the face.

By lunchtime of the next day, Elizaveta had managed to shoo away most of the countries. In the end, Roderich, Gilbert, and Ludwig remained. They had hot chocolate and had a peaceful post Christmas day, discussing the memories made the day before.

When they said their final goodbyes, everyone had agreed that the party was a success.

Ludwig offered to walk Roderich back home.

Roderich thought that a human GPS was much better than the devices.


End file.
